


Violated

by TheatreGirl79



Category: Torchwood
Genre: F/M, Other
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-10-25
Updated: 2015-10-25
Packaged: 2018-04-28 03:58:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 14
Words: 15,355
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5076916
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheatreGirl79/pseuds/TheatreGirl79
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A serial killer has been flouncing around Cardiff, using the name Jack Harkness. When the team starts investigating the murders, they have doubt whether it is really Jack or not. To their shock, they find out it is someone really close to them, someone who shouldn’t exist.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the 2011 tw_bigbang. Thanks to my friends who pushed this to get down, and thanks to Liz who gave me last minute line changes. The Prologue is very dark and graphic - if you wish you can skip over Chapter 1 and start with Chapter 2.
> 
> WARNING! If you have a problem with graphic violence, graphic sex and/or forced sex, skip Chapter One and go directly to CHAPTER TWO!

He licked his lips as the girl wiggled her toes and fingers. It was so intoxicating to watch them struggle, barely able to move. Her grunts brought his attention back to her pretty face. Her… Her… She had a name at one point… Rhia? Samantha? Lisa? Did it matter anymore?

Kneeling between her legs, he ran a finger up her bare stomach and circled the breast, watching the girl squirm spread eagle under him. He ran his fingers along her taut arm muscles as she struggled against the cuffs and rope that held her down. His rough palm moved along her hip and down to her pussy lips. He licked a finger and worked it in to her.

“Told you you’d like it,” he said to her as his finger began to stroke her clit.

He got so excited listening to her groans around the gag, her body unwillingly bucking against his finger as he gently pinched the clit. Pulling his hands away, he looked down at the girl, sweat making her body glow. He stroked his hard cock and then grabbed her by the hips, holding her body steady. Lining himself up, he pushed into her pussy, pushing deep despite her body clenching against him.

Grunting as he pushed in and out, fighting the girl, he held tight to her, leaving bruises on her hips from his fingers. Leaning down, he licked her nipples and then bit down hard on one, making her body lurch in the bonds. He forgot all about protecting her precious pussy as he nibbled on her tits, pushing in and out.

He could see the fear and lust in her eyes. All this girl was to him was a piece of meat. She was his to do whatever he wanted to do with. He felt himself come hot and heavy inside her and kept pushing, feeling her body tense at the brink. They never wanted to come for him, but he had a way of manipulating their bodies.

As her body tightened, feeling the orgasm wash across her, he pulled a silver hilt from under the pillow and pressed a button, extending the knife. It glittered in the soft light of the girl’s bedroom. Her eyes filled with desire, he ran the sharp blade along her neck, severing the artery.

The blade was so finely tuned, no mark could be seen at first. It was as she thrashed around and the blood filled up her throat and started seeping out of the thin slit that went from one side of the neck to the other could anyone tell she had been cut. By then it was too late. The lust was replaced by fear and a soft gurgle as the life left her eyes.

He pulled out of her and wiped his hands on the bedsheets. Clicking the button on the hilt again, the knife disappeared back into place, cleaning itself as it plunged back into the casing. He took his time washing up, knowing the flatmate wouldn’t be back until morning. 

Drying off and getting dressed in his jeans and shirt, he slung his black leather jacket over his shoulder. Sliding the knife into his back jeans pocket, he stopped by the mirror and tucked his brown locks back, ruffling them slightly. His eyes smiled back at him seeming colder than usual. He exited the flat and hurried down Donald Street, thoughts of Torchwood in his mind.


	2. Chapter 2

Gwen Cooper opened her mouth in a wide yawn as she tromped down the steps towards the main area of the Hub. Turning the key by the cog door, she waited patiently as it rolled to the side to let her in. She rubbed her temple, wishing she was still in bed with Rhys. It had been a blissful weekend and a _rowdy_ morning, but eventually both of them had to head off to work.

“Hello,” she called out. She was surprised to not see Jack or Ianto, but that didn’t mean anything these days. Ever since Owen and Tosh had died they had each found things to cling to, and for Jack and Ianto that was each other. If they wanted to cling at other places instead of the Hub, who was she to complain.

Sitting down at her desk she briefly touched the picture of Owen and Tosh she had taken when they packed up Tosh’s flat. What she wouldn’t do to get them back, but they were gone. They had buried Tosh, and… Well, it was pretty much determined that not even a dead man could survive venting nuclear power.

She hit the bypass switch and the screen came to life. There had been several reports of ‘mysterious activity’ from residents of Cardiff that the police had forwarded to her. She opened the files. None seemed too unusual, or _otherworldly_ as the case may be. Perhaps the one in Splott should be checked out…

The computer beeped at Gwen, meaning an incoming areawide police alert. Most of those alerts were mainly APB’s, nothing to do with extra-terrestials, but Gwen always gave them a once over. You never knew who you were going to run into while hunting down your friendly neighbourhood Sycorax.

“Good morning,” Ianto said from somewhere behind Gwen.

She resisted the urge to jump, and the urge to smack him for sneaking up on her when she noticed Ianto carrying two cups of coffee. “Is one of those for me?”

“As Jack is not in yet, yes,” Ianto said, handing Gwen her cup. He sipped at his own coffee.

“Jack’s not in?”

“Last I heard he was hunting for Weevils,” Ianto stated, leaning back against her desk. “That was sometime after midnight.” Ianto had a scowl on his face.

Gwen touched his hand. “What is it?”

“Nothing,” Ianto stated, pulling away.

“Right,” Gwen drawled. “The great Jack Harkness gets to act all moody and answer no questions, but—”

“It’s not that,” Ianto replied.

“Then what?”

“Jack’s been acting…” Ianto’s eyebrows arched up as he thought about what to say. “He’s been acting different lately.”

“Jack’s always been different,” Gwen replied. “He’s probably not used to being part of a couple,” she said as she turned back to the computer.

“A couple? Us?”

“What else would you two be, love?” She grinned at Ianto as his cheeks flushed. Gwen looked at the APB from the Cardiff police as she drank her coffee. The brown liquid stuck in her throat as she began to choke.

Ianto rushed over and grabbed the cup from her hand, depositing both on the desk. Gwen regained control as the coffee burned in her throat, stinging it. Her eyes widened as she gaped at the computer screen. Ianto turned to see what she was looking at, his hands falling limp at his sides as he read the police alert.

“This can’t be,” Gwen muttered.

Next to her Ianto fished his mobile from his suit jacket and started dialing. He looked down at her. She could see the brief flicker of fear in his eyes, and then was amazed at how calm he seemed to be. Gwen barely heard the message he left for Jack as she fumbled for her own mobile as it rang in her bag. Pulling it out, she groaned as she saw the number calling her belonged to PC Andy Davidson, her former partner.

“Andy?” Gwen coolly answered.

“Where’s your boss?” he curtly asked.

“Why?”

“We need to talk to him,” Andy replied.

“Andy, you know me. I know Jack’s no saint, but I need to know why you’re looking for him before I tell you anything.”

“You know I can’t do that, Gwen.”

“Andy, there could be a reasonable explanation.”

“Tell me what a reasonable explanation for murder would be?”

Gwen pulled the mobile away from her ear and stared at it. She knew Jack was capable of killing people, she had seen it herself in the Brecon Beacons and had watched him shoot Suzie dead, but, murder? Where the police would find it? That didn’t sound like Jack at all.

“Andy, what do you think he did?” She wouldn’t turn Jack over to the police. Not until she had some answers herself.

“We just want to question him, Gwen. Unless you know where he was last night?”

“Last night?”

“Yeah,” Andy said. She could hear him sigh through the mobile. “A girl was killed early this morning and her flatmate said the last she had heard from her friend was that she had met up with a cute guy named Jack Harkness and she wanted some _alone time_ with him at their flat.”

“You can’t mean my Jack,” Gwen said, catching Ianto’s eyes. “He wouldn’t pick up random— He wouldn’t do— No, Andy.”

“We just want to talk to him right now.”

“I’ll see what I can do,” Gwen stated. She hurriedly hung up on Andy as her mind tried to process what he had said.

“Jack’s not answering his phone. What’s going on?” Ianto asked.

Before Gwen could reply, the lights above the cog door flashed red as it opened up, Captain Jack Harkness limping inside. He stopped when he saw both of them staring at him, his clothes bloody and torn.

“Did I miss something?”


	3. Chapter 3

Gwen Cooper had gone completely potty. No, mental was more like it. She couldn’t be serious. But all Andy had to do was look at her and he knew his former partner was serious. He couldn’t do it. Sure, Torchwood had walked all over him in the past, but this time it was different. 

“Andy, all we want to do is check out the crime scene ourselves,” Gwen hissed at him as they stood on the outskirts of the cordoned off area.

“Are you insane? One of your group is being sought after for questioning and you want to waltz right into the crime scene?” Andy stuffed his hands into the pockets of his trousers.

“But they don’t know it’s us.”

“Right.” Andy leaned his head back, staring at the darkening sky, praying for serenity, or whatever God could send his way. “To every detective on the force there is only one Jack Harkness and they know he belongs to Torchwood. You’re bloody lucky they don’t know where you guys work out of or you would have a handful of detectives waiting to escort Captain Idiot to the station.”

“Captain Idiot?” Gwen turned on him, her eyes flashing in anger.

“Aye. You don’t give your real name when you’re going to kill someone.”

“Like you know a lot about murdering people?”

“Enough to not do that.”

Gwen turned her back to him, hands on her hips. After a couple of seconds, she spoke, still not facing him. “I don’t think it was Jack.”

“And what makes you think that?”

“Jack wouldn’t leave anything behind for you to find.”

He put a hand on her shoulder. “You know as well as I do that murder is about control, and power. This could be his way of flaunting his superiority. ‘Look at me! I’m Captain Harkness! I can do anything in this city and no one can stop me!’”

“Jack’s not like that,” she said, taking his hand. 

“What makes you so sure of that, Gwen?” Andy pulled her back towards him. “You lot have been through hell and back lately, maybe he finally cracked.”

Gwen looked up at him, her eyes wide, pleading. “That’s why we need to see the crime scene. If it is Jack, Ianto and I will stop him.”

“What makes you think you can stop him?”

“We’re probably the only people he trusts,” Gwen replied.

Andy stepped back, seeing the harshness in Gwen’s eyes. Her eyes always spoke volumes to him. He warred with his mind, and in the end he didn’t know why he agreed to it. “SOCO should be done in half an hour. Come back later and I will see what I can do.”

He watched as Gwen walked away, getting lost in the crowd that had been hanging around all day getting their kicks out of the infamous. The police had been going mental, this was the fourth case like this in the past two weeks, and the first time they had any sort of lead. The killer had been getting more and more arrogant and may have finally left enough clues for them to convict someone. In fact, the crime scene investigators even thought they would be able to lift a fingerprint from the body this time.

Andy worried about Gwen and was relieved when she showed up later that day. “Where’s Harkness?” he asked as she ducked under the caution tape.

“Nowhere near here, if that’s what you’re asking,” Gwen responded.

He grabbed her by the arm, holding Gwen back. “If you help Harkness get away and he did these murders—”

“Murders? You only said one girl was killed.”

Andy ran his fingers along the collar of his police coat. “This is the fourth murder like this in the last two weeks. The first one with real hard evidence.”

“Oh, Andy. Four of them?” Her nose crinkled in worried surprise.

“You can see why they want to talk to Jack. Haven’t you been following the news?”

“We’ve been… sort of busy,” Gwen stated.

“Right. _Torchwood_ ,” Andy said as he led the way into the building.

“Oi, who’s this?” Another officer blocked their way into the flat.

“The Crown sent me,” Gwen hurriedly replied.

The other officer looked to Andy. “Special Investigator brought in. She deals with cases like this,” Andy stated. He pulled two pairs of latex gloves from his pocket and handed one set to Gwen.

“Right,” the officer stated, giving Andy the once over. “The log sheet is on the kitchen table,” he said, ducking out, pulling a fag from his pocket.

“Thanks,” Gwen said.

“You’re lucky he’s new to the department and didn’t recognise you,” Andy hissed as they meandered over to the log sheet. He looked shocked as Gwen picked up the pen and started writing. “What the bloody hell are you writing?”

“Someone has to sign in,” Gwen replied. “So Caroline Dewes has.”

“Caroline Dewes?”

“She’s a special investigator, just been retired for the last four years,” Gwen said as she headed into the bedroom.

“And what if they check with Caroline about what she found?” Andy followed her closely, making sure nothing was disturbed or nicked.

“She won’t answer the phone. She thinks the aliens try to scan her brain with it,” Gwen whispered to him.

Aliens. Again with the bloody aliens. Andy opened his mouth to question just how Gwen knew this, but closed it instead, deciding he would rather not know. He stood by the door and observed as she looked at the bedside table and along the bloodstain on the mattress. She even got down and looked under the bed.

“Looking for something specific?” Andy asked.

“The report said it looked like she had sex before dying,” Gwen replied.

“How did you see the bloody report?”

“I have my ways,” she stated, glancing back at him. “I don’t see a condom or wrapper, did SOCO find one?”

“Not that I’m aware of,” Andy said.

“So if the attacker…” She blushed slightly. “There should be DNA on the body then. Once they do the autopsy report, we can compare the residue to samples taken from Jack.”

“Do I even want to know how you propose to get samples of _that_ from your boss?”

“I have my ways,” Gwen said. “Actually, Ianto has the way,” she continued. Gwen pulled what looked like some fancy PDA from her pocket and turned it on, slowly turning around. She scanned the entire room top to bottom, concentrating on the readout.

“And what does that do?”

“Scans the area for certain emissions,” she replied as she moved closer to the bed and the blood stain where the girl’s throat had been sliced open. “That’s what I was afraid of.”

“Now what?”

Gwen let out a sigh as she shut down off the scanner thingy. “Whatever was used to kill the girl is leaving behind trace emissions. It was powerful and concentrated in one area. I don’t think what killed this girl is from Earth.”

“You can’t get away claiming it’s one of your spooky-dos. You have access to stuff that is not of this Earth as well.” He moved towards her. Why couldn’t Gwen see he was looking out for her safety.

“I hate to say it, Andy,” she said, her brown eyes looking up at him. “But you’re right. The scans don’t prove who did it, just help narrow down what did kill her.” Gwen pulled one of the gloves off and rubbed her forehead.

“Come on, before someone realises you’re not Caroline Dewes,” Andy stated, putting a hand on Gwen’s back and leading her out of the flat. “All we want to do is talk to Harkness, find out what he knows.”

“I know that’s all you want to do,” Gwen said. “But there are others in the department who would love to have Jack on some trumped up charges.” She stopped and looked up and down the street. “No CCTV cameras.”

“We know,” Andy groaned. “None of the murder sites were covered by CCTV cameras.”

“Which means someone had to really know the city,” Gwen replied, her eyes growing wide as she looked at the convenience store across the street.

“Gwen,” Andy cautioned.

“Sorry, Andy. But I need to figure out who did this.”

“Why you?”

“Because, I care about Jack and I don’t know if he did it.”

“You don’t know he didn’t do it either.”

“And if he did, I have to stop him, get him help, and keep Ianto safe.”

“Gwen, you can’t do this by yourself.”

“I wish I didn’t have to.” She turned back to him, giving him a reassuring smile which did not reach her eyes. “Don’t worry, love. Ianto’s helping me.” With that she darted across the street.

Andy cursed himself for getting Gwen involved. He had an idea where Torchwood seemed to hang out, he should have just waited for Harkness to run out on some mission or go out for some tea and nabbed the man himself. She could get herself hurt, or worse. Andy shuddered as his mind flashed on the sight he had walked into upstairs when they responded to the call. He fought the bile rising in his throat as his mind replayed the poor girl splayed out and cold. Snapping out of it, he spotted Gwen hurrying from the convenience store, tucking what looked like a DVD into her coat.

“Oh, Gwen…” Andy shook his head as he moved back to patrolling the perimeter. He found himself constantly staring at the store.

“Whatcha looking at,” Greenberg said coming up next to Andy ready to cover the crime scene so Andy could finally head home and crash.

“That store over there,” Andy said. “Did the detectives ever see if they had cameras?”

“Most of those little shops never do,” Greenebrg replied.

“Right,” Andy said. “Well, it’s all yours,” he stated as he loped away. He couldn’t help but wonder just how deep Gwen was going to go before she realised what kind of man Harkness could be and get herself away from Torchwood.


	4. Chapter 4

Ianto continued to monitor the scans he had been making in one of the open windows on the computer screen, while monitoring Rift activity in another window. All the while he kept glancing up at the open door to Jack’s office. Jack had finally cleaned up and even rested a bit after going head to head with a big Weevil the night before and the Weevil winning - or so he claimed.

There was a part of his mind that saw the man Jack could easily be, a man who could kill someone in cold blood. There was also the part of Ianto that knew Jack chose not to be that way, so why would he start killing? When Gwen texted him about this being a serial killer issue, Ianto’s gut told him it couldn’t be Jack. But then again, Jack had been distant the last couple of weeks, going out alone at night to patrol for Weevils.

He sat up straight in the chair as Jack’s shadow crossed the threshold to his office. Ianto looked inquisitively at Jack as he leaned up against the doorjamb, hands in his trousers, staring at Ianto. He discreetly closed the window on the screen that was working on the scans he set up and looked at Jack.

“Anything I can do for you?” He suppressed the desire to say ‘Sir,’ both to make Jack smile and to put up a wall between him and Jack just in case.

“Where did you say Gwen had headed out to?” Jack asked, his brow crinkling in thought.

“Just checking on a report of strange lights from a house that doesn’t exist anymore,” Ianto filled in.

“Right.” Jack took a couple of steps towards Ianto. “There was no log or message about anything like that in the computer.”

Ianto swallowed. He should have remembered how tenacious Jack could be. “Andy called it in to her, as a favour he said. He was getting tired of the little old lady next door stopping him on the beat.” It amazed Ianto how well he could lie to Jack, even now.

Jack meandered over to Ianto and put a hand on his shoulder, squeezing it tightly. Ianto fought the urge to wince, not so much from the pain, but from the blank look Jack gave him as he looked down on him. Jack’s face was never completely blank, usually something spoke to Ianto - a twinkle in his eye, a slight curl to his lips, something. When Jack shut himself off like this it was never a good sign.

“And, do you want to tell me why you are running scans on my bloody shirt from earlier?” Jack squeezed Ianto’s shoulder a bit harder.

“Just making sure there are no dangerous enzymes from the Weevil that could have gotten into your system,” Ianto replied, keeping his breath even, staying calm, putting up walls in his mind.

“Something tells me rabid Weevils are the least of our problem,” Jack stated, letting Ianto go, only to hunch down and block Ianto against the desk. “Especially when one of the scans is checking to see if the blood was human, and if there were more than one blood type in the mix.” Jack narrowed his eyes, staring at Ianto. “Why would you be looking for that?” he asked, his voice low.

Ianto knew Jack could access anything in Mainframe, he had just hoped Jack would have been too tired to go snooping that day. He had to calm Jack down, get him on his level. “Where have you been going at night the last couple of weeks?” Ianto looked and genuinely felt concerned for his… lover.

“You want to ask me about that now?” Jack asked, incredulous. “What? Are you jealous Ianto Jones?”

“No, just worried about you.” And that was the truth.

Jack looked deep into Ianto’s eyes, a snarl on his lips and then quickly pulled away. “Turnmill,” he muttered, turning his back to Ianto.

“Turnmill?” He shook his head. “You said Owen couldn’t have survived, even in his undead state.”

“I know,” Jack replied. “At first I would swing past there hoping to see something, hoping I had been wrong in some way. But lately, it’s like I feel him still here, still calling to me.”

“Jack…”

“I know it sounds crazy. But for the last two weeks I’ve been sitting outside the gates at Turnmill, opening my mind and trying to help him move on.”

Ianto’s head dropped against his chest. All this time and Jack still held himself responsible for what had happened. Jack’s boots came into his view as Jack stepped forward, putting his hands on Ianto’s shoulders. Ianto looked up at the Captain, the mask partially askew. He pulled Jack in to him by the braces and kissed the man gently on the lips. If Jack still held regrets about Owen and Tosh, and even Suzie, how could he be a serial killer?

“Jack you can’t keep—”

“You don’t understand,” Jack said loudly, his hands on Ianto’s neck.

In the back of his mind, Ianto had registered the lights above the cog door going off. It wasn’t until Gwen was body slamming Jack away from him that he came back to the here and now. He quickly stood up as Gwen pulled her gun, pointing it at Jack who was still sprawled on the floor.

“Ianto, are you okay?” Gwen breathlessly asked.

“He wasn’t trying to hurt me,” he hurriedly said.

“He was doing something, you didn’t even notice me come in,” Gwen stated, never taking her eyes off Jack as he sat up on the floor.

“Does somebody want to tell me what’s going on?” Jack asked.

Ianto thought about what Gwen had said. She was right. He hadn’t noticed her until she was on top of them, and where Jack had been all emotional a moment before, now he was calmly watching Gwen wave her gun at him. Ianto was amazed at the hold on him Jack Harkness could have, even now when he should be used to it.

“Tell me Jack, do you own a black leather coat?” Gwen asked.

“I used to,” Jack said, standing up as Gwen still held tight to her gun. “It’s in storage. I don’t really wear it that much anymore. Why? Do you want to borrow it?”

“Where were you last night?” Gwen chimed in again.

Jack looked at Ianto and then at Gwen. “I’d rather not say.”

“Where were you last night?”

“How about I ask a couple of questions,” Jack said, standing up straight, taking a couple of steps towards Gwen trying to not pay attention to the gun. “Do you two want to tell me why I’m suddenly being questioned, at gunpoint, by my own employees?”

Ianto looked at Gwen out of the corner of his eye and then put his hand over hers, making her lower the gun. If it was Jack behind the murders, pissing him off would not help their chances of stopping him, or getting out of there alive. Gwen glared at him a moment and then pulled away. Jack put his hands on his hips, watching both of them.

“There’s been a series of murders,” Ianto stated, watching Jack, waiting for him to flinch.

“Ianto,” Gwen intoned.

Ianto just held up his hand up to her. “And some of the evidence points to you,” Ianto said to Jack.

A storm cloud seemed to take hold of Jack. “Do you think I did them?” Neither Gwen or Ianto said a word. “What kind of murders?”

“Four girls were…” Gwen stuttered trying to find the right words to say.

“Four women were tortured and murdered in the last two weeks,” Ianto said. 

“And?”

“Last night’s victim told her flatmate she was going home with a bloke named Jack Harkness for some alone time,” Gwen said.

“Anyone could use a name,” Jack stated.

“I checked out the recent crime scene,” Gwen said.

“That’s where you were today,” Jack stated, leaning against a nearby desk.

“Alien tech was used in the killing, I believe,” Gwen continued on. “I found trace levels of theron radiation right above the murder scene.”

“Theron radiation?” Jack repeated. “But you know where I’ve been the last two weeks,” Jack said, pleading with Ianto.

“Each night there was a murder, you were out Weevil hunting,” Ianto said softly.

Gwen pulled a DVD case from her pocket and handed it to Ianto. “I talked the guy who ran the convenience store across the street to loan this to me.” Ianto slid the DVD into the computer. “At 0350 a man is seen exiting the flat.”

Ianto pulled up the timecode and watched as a man in dark jeans and a black leather coat exited the flat, his head down, and hurried down the street. The gait almost matched Jack’s exactly, and the man had short brown hair like Jack.

“Slow it down and play it again,” Jack suddenly said, standing up behind Ianto.

Ianto resisted the urge to physically shiver at Jack’s nearness. “What is that going to prove?”

“My innocence,” Jack stated.

Ianto wanted that more than anything right now. He slowed down the replay and watched as the mysterious man seemed to glance up at a sudden spot of light in the sky. Ianto slowed down the replay until it was a frame per second and advanced it slowly, stopping the DVD as the man snapped his head up for that millisecond. He enhanced the video and all three of them stared in amazement.

“That can’t be,”Gwen stammered.

Ianto’s breath hitched in his throat as he stared at the face of Dr. Owen Harper.


	5. Chapter 5

Jack looked up as he felt Ianto hovering above his desk. He glanced at the younger man and then snapped his head back down, reading the police reports Gwen could find on the murders. He heard Ianto close the door to the office and tried to not pay attention as Ianto moved across the room, his shoes making a soft clicking sound on the floor. 

“Sure you want to do that? Gwen might need to run in here and rescue you again from Big Bad Jack Harkness,” he stated, not even looking at Ianto.

“Stop it,” Ianto said, stopping next to Jack’s desk. “Even you have to admit, the evidence—”

“Was purely circumstantial.” Jack threw the pen he had been holding onto the desk and leaned back in his chair, hands resting on his chest, fingers steepled. “Do you think that much of me that someone accuses me of murder and you are ready to turn me over to the police saying I did it?”

“We didn’t turn you over to the police.”

“I guess I should be grateful for small miracles.”

“Jack—”

“No, Ianto!” Jack quickly stood up, hands on his hips to keep from decking Ianto. “You automatically assumed I killed those girls.”

“I didn’t.”

“Yes, you did.” Jack said, noticing Ianto flex his hands in and out of little fists at his side. “We have work to do. We have a dead man to find,” Jack said, sitting back down and brushing Ianto away.

“Listen, Jack,” Ianto started.

“Why should I?”

“Because I’m not leaving until you do,” Ianto stated.

“The longer you stand there, the more likely another girl will get killed,” Jack said, picking up the pen again, not even looking at Ianto. He waited until Ianto finally sulked out of his office to once again put the pen down neatly on the desk and look up. He thought they trusted him, after everything the team had been through, after everything the team had lost. He thought Ianto…

His mind choked on the thoughts of betrayal. He couldn’t allow himself to even comprehend what Gwen and Ianto had thought, not if they were to stop Owen. _Owen Harper_ \- it just could not be. Oh sure, there was a part of him that was willing to beg any gods of the universe that would listen to let it be Owen alive again. But if it was, what had turned him into a cold blooded killer that did that sort of thing to those poor girls.

Jack pulled up the crime scene photos on his computer. The killing was precise, that could definitely be Owen, incisions so neat they didn’t show up until the girl was thrashing around and dying. But the rape, that wasn’t Owen’s style, never had been. Sure, he would shag a girl and forget her name, but the bruises? Bondage? Sure, but that… the photos he saw were different. It was about power, about the pain, about the murder. At the back of Jack’s mind he wondered if Owen had somehow survived Turnmill, would that have made him go completely insane?

Then came the question of why would Owen use Jack’s name? Was Owen that vindictive after everything Jack had tried to do for him? Sure, Owen hadn’t been appreciative of Jack bringing him back from the dead, and Jack couldn’t blame him, but framing him for murder? There was also the point that alien tech was used in conjunction with the killings. After that day that they lost so much… everything had been accounted for.

Rubbing at his bleary eyes, Jack was starting to feel tired. Lack of sleep the last couple of nights had finally worn on him, but now he had a job to do. Stifling a yawn, Jack looked over the police reports again. They didn’t have much to work with, but Torchwood had something they didn’t - the tape from the convenience store.

Jack started. No, they had something else the police would never have, they knew there was theron radiation left behind. Now, if he could just remember who used theron radiation in their weaponry. It sounded familiar, but Jack couldn’t quite place it.

Looking at the clock on his desk, Jack let out a sigh. It was half past three in the morning. If Owen was going to strike tonight then according to the police reports he would have already had the girl picked out and strung up by now. He made an executive decision and pushed away from the desk, feeling some of his age in his body. He may not be getting older physically, but he was starting to feel it mentally.

Popping his head out his office door, Jack was not surprised to see both Ianto and Gwen look up expectantly. “Go home,” he said.

“But, Jack, we need to find Owen,” Gwen said, standing up and wavering on her feet.

“According to the autopsy reports, if he was going to kill again, it’s too late for tonight,” Jack stated. “We know he doesn’t have a flat in the city under his name, or mine, and we haven’t found him yet. He needs to refresh his batteries and so do you.”

“He won’t need to refresh if he’s still suffering the same condition,” Ianto stated.

“He wouldn’t be able to shag a lamppost either if he was,” Jack retorted. “Go home, both of you, and get some rest. We’ll look at this with fresh eyes tomorrow.”

Jack watched as Gwen wearily gathered up her coat and bag and headed out, exchanging a look with Ianto. Ianto set the computer up to monitor Rift activity and then turned to Jack.

“That means you, too,” Jack simply stated, holding his head up.

“I can stay—”

“Go home,” Jack cut in.

“What about you?” Ianto asked, shoving his hands into his trouser pockets.

“I’m already home. Put a scanner on if you’re afraid I’ll kill someone again,” Jack harshly stated as he turned his back on Ianto and strode into his office, shutting the door.


	7. Chapter 7

Gwen poked at her eggs with her fork, head cradled in her other hand, elbow on the breakfast counter. Supressing a yawn, she tried to listen to her husband Rhys prattle on about Paul or Jim, or some other bloke at work. She did care, but she had barely slept all night. Putting the fork down on her plate, Gwen ran her hands through her bedhead. Maybe she should shower and just go to the Hub.

“Maybe you should shower and go to the Hub,” Rhys stated, grabbing her breakfast plate and his.

She looked at him, narrowing her eyes. Had he read her mind, or was she really not paying that much attention? “I’m sorry, love,” she stammered, standing up from the stool.

“No, it’s okay,” Rhys said as he started running water to do the dishes. “You were tossing and turning all night, I barely slept as well. Something must be wrong.” He turned to her, soap bottle in hand. “And since I don’t recall us having any big rows lately, I figure it has something to do with work.”

“Sort of,” she replied, hugging herself around the midsection as she leaned back into the counter. Gwen studied the floor tile a minute while she listened to the water running and Rhys humming some song. Why couldn’t life be this simple, why did her life always seem to have so many complications that she couldn’t even understand, and that included working for Torchwood. If she dared tell anyone half the stuff she went through they would say Gwen was completely mental and have her locked up.

Pushing away from the breakfast counter, Gwen headed for the bathroom. She stripped off her pyjamas and climbed into the shower, hissing as it started cold. Her body started to relax as the warm water started spraying over her skin, but her mind couldn’t relax. She had been so quick to judge Jack and for what? Hadn’t he proved time and time again what kind of man he really was? Then again, they didn’t even know his real name.

Finishing with her shower, she wrapped a towel around her body and headed into the bedroom. She sat down on the bed and grabbed the brush from the bedside table, running it through her hair. What could turn Owen into a killer? He hadn’t given in when he had been infatuated with Ed Morgan. Gwen found herself staring into space as the thoughts took over. She was so lost in them, she never even noticed Rhys sit next to her until he took her hand.

Gwen mutely turned to him, bringing his hand up to her cheek. He smelled… he smelled so Rhys. Gwen didn’t know what she would do if she didn’t have Rhys to ground her.

“Are you sure you don’t want to talk about it?” Rhys asked.

“Oh, sweetheart, I don’t know if I can,” Gwen replied. She brought his hand back down to her lap and held it in between hers.

“I haven’t seen you this lost in a long while,” Rhys stated, nuzzling his nose against her ear.

All Gwen wanted to do was stay home and remain in Rhys’ arms, but she knew she had work to do. “It’s not really me that’s lost,” she said, thinking about what could have happened to Owen. It was quiet for a bit, making her turn to Rhys who just stared at her. “What?”

“You look as if you’ve seen a ghost,” Rhys said.

“That would be better than the alternative,” Gwen replied. She pulled away from Rhys and began to get dressed, throwing on a pair of black jeans and a red top. Trying to not pay attention to Rhys just sitting there and watching her, Gwen grabbed her leather boots and flopped onto the bed, sliding them on.

“Official business then?” Rhys said as he stood up, grabbing his mobile from the dresser.

“Yeah,” Gwen replied.

“Right. Well then,” Rhys said. “Guess I’ll just head into work.” He turned back to her by the bedroom door. “Banana Boat’s in town, I’ll be heading out for a pint after work. Don’t know when I’ll be home.”

“Got it,” she said, standing up, hands on her hips. “Have fun.”

“Right,” Rhys flippantly said.

“I mean it,” Gwen said to his retreating back. She waited until he she could hear the front door slam shut and then ran her hands over her face. At least Rhys was getting better at understanding Torchwood business. She might tell him one day, but until then there was no manual on how to tell your husband ‘by the way, my dead coworker is back from the dead, again, and terrorising Cardiff, and I almost shot my boss yesterday - but don’t worry about me, I’ll be fine.’

Gwen looked at herself in the mirror as she put on some lipgloss and shadow on her eyes. It was the little girlish things like this that kept a routine. It was those routines that kept her sane. Throwing on her leather coat, Gwen exited the flat and turned her face up towards the shining sun. Scrunching her eyes she looked around at everyone hurrying off and doing their own important tasks: people to work, kids to school, mothers pushing strollers, old men reading the papers. This is what Cardiff should be, not things running amok in the sewers or aliens trying to decapitate Jack with their tentacles.

She stopped as a child ran right into her, holding her doll tight to her chest. “Sorry,” she mumbled and took off after what appeared to be her older brother, same look and all.

Gwen found herself wondering when her and Rhys might think of attempting a family. It was something she always wanted, but she didn’t have a clue how she would manage with Torchwood nearly taking over her life. Watching some children playing in the park across the way, Gwen picked up a newspaper from the local stand. The front page made her stop worrying about kids, or anything else for that matter. They had gotten a copy of one of the crime scene photos and it was splashed across the front page. Flipping through, Gwen noticed they hadn’t listed the ‘person of interest’ by name. Thank God for small miracles.

She had been headed for the Hub, but Gwen changed direction and headed for police headquarters, wondering if any other leads had been found. Andy wasn’t on shift until later, but maybe Rhona would be able to spare some time to grab a tea with her. Rhona had always seemed to like her before, and was the first one to come on duty when the bombs started going off. That might work. Gwen smoothed down her hair and headed down the road, hopefully to some more answers.


	8. Chapter 8

Andy scuffed his shoe along the pavement. When Sgt. Thompson had found out Gwen was Torchwood and was suddenly in his ‘domain’ there had nearly been a ruckus. The man had been brought down from London, apparently Cardiff had a problem with keeping good officers alive, couldn’t imagine why. Gwen had gotten out before the Seargant found her, but he found out that Andy had been her partner and waited for him specifically to start his shift. 

After an hour _talking_ with the boss, Andy finally got out of there by suggesting he walk the streets, looking for the murderer, since he knew what Harkness looked like. Gwen seemed so certain that it wasn’t her Captain Jack, but then again, Andy had felt certain that his Gwen would never join a bunch of crazies like Torchwood. Sure, it hadn’t been a bad thing, brought out some new qualities in her, but it also brought out some harsher qualities.

He tossed out the ‘to-go’ cup of tea he had been sipping on as he walked the beat. The resounding thump as it landed in the bin did nothing to stop his mind from rehashing everything it could about this case. There was something Gwen wasn’t telling him, and he was damn sure she had pocketed something from the convenience store across the way the night before. 

One of the few clues they had to go on was that the murderer struck in places where there was no CCTV cameras. It was like they knew the city like the back of their hand, or like Torchwood. Andy found himself loping along one of the alleyways that did not have cameras in it. He propbably should have a partner with him, but he really didn’t feel like answering any questions and dealing with the _‘poor sod, his partner tired of him so they turned to Torchwood’_ look.

There was a club three blocks down, and several old warehouses along this stretch of road. Enough places for a gang of teenagers to have a free-for-all and not run into any of their old mans. Andy leaned up against the corner of one of the warehouses, pulling a notebook from his trouser’s pocket. Flipping it open, he reminded himself about some of the particulars of the case. If it wasn’t Harkness, this bastard was one nasty piece of work and needed to be caught.

Andy found himself ruminating on whether it would be a good thing if the murderer was Harkness. If it was the Captain, they knew where to find him. Yet, at the same time, that meant Gwen was wandering around with a sadistic son of a bitch and could be the next body he had to go pick up. Andy visibly shook at that thought. He didn’t want to let his mind go there. Stuffing the notebook in his back pocket, it caught on the pocket’s edge as his mind was distracted by a guy heading straight for him.

“You the police?” The younger looking guy said, keeping his head down.

“Aye. Constable Andy Davidson,” Andy replied, standing up straight, one hand on his baton that hung off his belt. He could hear the notebook hit the ground behind him, but something made him on edge suddenly. Something didn’t feel right about this guy.

“Andy… Davidson…” The other guy drawled his name as if he was testing it out with his lips.

“What about it?”

The man lifted his head, looking at Andy. His eyes looked darker than coal, and seemed to be staring straight through Andy. He looked on either side of Andy and smiled a feral grin, stepping closer to Andy. A chill ran up his spine as Andy pulled the baton from his belt loop.

“Listen, I think you need to step back.”

The man continued to move forward, the lamplight reflecting off his face. Andy’s brows furrowed in recognition. _That was one of Gwen’s mates from Torchwood in front of him_. His breathe caught in his throat as his mind finished the sentence. _One of Gwen’s mates who was dead_.

“You need to stop right where you are,” Andy said firmly, standing his ground.

“I could,” the guy replied. Andy struggled to remember his name. “But, I know you’re alone. I’ve been watching you for the last half hour. If you had a partner that gave a rat’s arse, I would have seen them by now. You are all alone.” The man smiled that icy smile again. “With me.”

“Stay put,” Andy said, fumbling for his mobile. 

His radio crackled, grabbing his attention. It was then that the dead man sprang out at him, hands clasped around his throat. Andy wrapped his fingers around the guy’s wrists, trying to pry the hands away from his neck. The man pushed Andy into the wall, banging his head against the hard brick. Andy’s teeth knocked and he felt the wind rush out of him. This bastard was damn strong.

Andy brought his knee up into the bloke’s groin, aiming for the pain. The man stumbled back, and Andy flew head first at him, shoulder to the other guy’s stomach. They both landed in a heap on top of the trash bins, sending a stray cat bolting down the alley. The man flopped around on the ground and jammed a finger into the area between the bone on Andy’s collar. Andy tried to breathe through the pain.

The man struggled to his knees and dropped his elbow across Andy’s windpipe. Breathing was starting to not become an option. Straddling Andy, his knees digging into the officer’s kidneys, the bastard put his fingers along the veins under his jaw and squeezed them together as he dug out a white cloth. Pressing it against Andy’s mouth, Andy tried to not breathe in the sweetly sickening stench, but eventually had no choice.

“Never killed a copper before,” Andy heard the guy mutter as he world went dark.


	9. Chapter 9

Ianto couldn’t sleep, who was Jack kidding. Sure, he had attempted to go home, but the minute he walked in the door he didn’t feel like he belonged in his own bed, or was it he didn’t feel like he belonged in his own bed alone? They had been quick to judge Jack and that hadn’t been right, but damn it, the man was so… Ianto knew the man had secrets he would probably never tell him - that was his choice, but Ianto wondered if it was because Jack didn’t want to let him in completely, or if he was afraid of how Ianto would judge him. Today certainly didn’t help.

Ianto ran a hand along his jeans as he sat in the club. He toyed with the necklace around his neck while he scanned the room. This had been one of Owen’s haunts back in the day, and he could see why. A troll could score with some of these women. He turned back to his whiskey.

“Find anything you like yet?” a masculine voice whispered in his ear to be heard over the pounding music.

Amend that, a troll could score with some of these women _and men_. He turned back to the drunk redhead and gave him a sweet smile. “I did. He’s waiting for me at home.”

“He’s at home and you’re here.” The man smiled back at him.

Ianto let out a sigh. “Sorry, not my type,” he replied.

“I can be your type,” the man slurred as he put a hand on Ianto’s arse.

Ianto fought the urge to punch the man’s lights out, but instead, deftly untangled himself and dodged his way to the other end of the bar. He slumped over the bartop wondering if this had been a good idea. Ianto looked up as a glass was placed in front of him with fresh whiskey in it. The bartender smiled at him, a strand of blonde hair falling across her face.

“Sorry about Dave, I don’t think he quite gets the subtle nuances of flirting,” she replied. Ianto pulled out his wallet to pay her, but she held up a hand. “You didn’t cause a scene, makes it easier for me, and you lost your drink. It’s on the house.”

“Thanks,” Ianto muttered as he slipped a picture of him and Owen out of his wallet. “I was wondering, have you seen this guy lately?” he asked, showing the bartender the picture.

She looked at the picture and then at him. “You police?”

“No. Just a worried friend,” Ianto replied. He was. More than he would ever admit to anyone, even Jack.

“I hadn’t seen him for a bit, was wondering what happened to him, but then all of a sudden he came in last Thursday.” She chuckled. “He was true to form all right, back one day and already leaving with a girl.”

“Can you describe the girl?”

“Oh, about 5’6” with long dark hair. Very pretty looking if I do say so myself. Exquisite features, like Asian or something.”

“Was she a regular?”

“Nope, can’t recall seeing her before. All I know is when he saw her he made a beeline straight for her like they were old friends.” 

“Thanks,” Ianto said, downing the rest of his drink, wincing slightly. He threw a fiver down and hurried out of the club. Leaning up against the cool, brick wall he dared to breathe again. It was Owen, it had to be, but his mind didn’t want to accept it. It had finally accepted that Owen was dead, _and now he’s alive and a raving murderer?_ And to top it all off—

He moved away from the wall as a couple popped out of the club and started snogging, rolling towards him in each other’s arms. Ianto started walking towards home. His mind flashed on the crime scene photos and the description of each of the four girls murdered. Then he processed what the bartender had told him. Each victim had a specific look about them: they were each under 5’7”, long dark hair, Asian features, dark eyes… _Toshiko._

Slamming the door to his flat shut, Ianto fell back against it as he legs wanted to give out. Owen Harper had come back from the dead, again, and was raping and murdering girls who looked like Toshiko Sato. Ianto shook his head. Not even their lives should be this complicated. He fumbled in his pocket for the mobile and started dialing Jack’s number but stopped before he could hit the ‘call’ button. He had no proof, all he had was circumstantial evidence. Pretty damn good circumstantial evidence, but still, he would wait on calling Jack.

Kicking off his shoes, Ianto didn’t even bother to untie them. He tore off his shirt as he walked down the hall towards the bedroom. Undoing his belt, he dropped his jeans to the floor. His mind was whirling away a thousand miles a minute. Comfortable in just his socks, undershirt and boxers, Ianto grabbed his laptop from the bedside table and headed into the kitchen. Like hell he was sleeping tonight, no matter what Jack said.

Brewing a fresh pot of coffee in the press, Ianto opened his laptop and pulled up the police reports again. There had to have been something they missed. He also hacked into Mainframe and started a search for theron radiation. If it was really Owen, this would tear them apart worse than his death had done.


	10. Chapter 10

Jack didn’t know why he continued to sit outside of the Turnmill Nuclear Power Plant when he had a killer on the loose that only Torchwood would be able to take care of. Of course they would take care of it, they always took care of their own, no matter what that included. Jack let out a sigh, slumping down in the seat. Whatever it was that was terrorising the city had started here, he could feel it.

Looking out at the plant, peering over the steering wheel, Jack thought about what was left of his team. Gwen looked exhausted, so Jack had sent her home early; maybe some time with Rhys would help clear her mind. Ianto had disappeared hours ago, to where, Jack had no clue. All he had seen on CCTV footage was Ianto enter his flat and 30 minutes later exit it, dressed in jeans, a shirt, and jacket. He had lost track of him by the University.

His mind drifted to Owen and Toshiko. They had been like family to him. He was old enough, they could have been his great-grandkids, but it was more like he was their older sibling. Toshiko was great at what she did, and if given some time, she would have been so much more. He had so much he still wanted to teach her, things that were old hat by the century he had grown up in, but they would have amazed her and then Toshiko would have set about making them work in the here and now. Jack smiled wistfully as he could see her face light up with the challenge. She was never beautiful as she was then.

Turnmill stared back at him, dark and foreboding. He shook as if he could feel its cold reaching out for him. He should have been the one inside the nuclear plant - he would have survived. Granted, the team would have been without him for a bit, but then they wouldn’t have lost Owen, and even Tosh might have survived. He held the guilt for their deaths in the bowels of his soul.

Jack hopped out of the SUV and headed straight for the gate. He looked in, trying to see answers in the shadows of the building. _Could Owen have survived?_ It didn’t seem possible, but then again, he had seen many impossible things in his lifetimes. He started walking clockwise around the building, letting his fingers trail along the rough, pockmarked cement. The building had lasted years, and because of their sacrifice it would last many years longer - and so would the city.

A tear fell down his cheek as he spied the wing where the nuclear waste had vented. He had hoped, once upon a time, that the readings had been wrong and Tosh was able to stop the venting in time. Yet, on actual inspection of the site, he knew. Owen had been trapped, and unlike him being buried alive, Owen hadn’t had the reprieve of death to break things up.

There was a flash of light above Turnmill. It caught Jack’s eye and he stared up at it, flipping open his vortex manipulator, hoping to get a read on what it was. It didn’t look Eart—

 

Jack slowly sat up in the driver’s seat of the SUV, a headache lancing through his skull. He slowly brought his left hand up to his temple, idly wondering if he shot himself in the head if that would make the pain go away. Cracking his eyes open against the sunrise he saw the flap to his wrist strap swaying open. His mind began to reconstruct the events from the previous night as he focused his eyes on the readout from the scan he had started. Jack couldn’t remember getting to the SUV, but he did recall a sudden blinding pain and…

Staring at the readout, his stomach seemed to drop through the floor. That would explain the theron radiation. Turning his head to the side, Jack saw his Webley revolver lying on the seat next to him. He picked up, checking the chamber. There were two bullets missing.

Snapping the chamber back into place, he slid the revolver into its holster. Jack tried to shuttle the pain to the back of his mind as he scrambled out of the SUV and ran for the spot along Turnmill where he had been attacked. He ran his hands along the cement wall, but nothing felt out of the ordinary. Flipping open the vortex manipulator he scanned for the metal that would match the bullets in his Webley. The only bullets that registered were in his gun.

“At least I went down fighting,” Jack mumbled as he slowly ambled back to the vehicle. Whatever had attacked him used his distraction with their ‘decoy’ to knock him unconscious. The only good thing was knowing he had gotten two shots into whatever - or whoever - it was. He crawled back into the driver’s seat, laying his head against the steering wheel. There were some answers, but where they were leading was not what he wanted.


	11. Chapter 11

Ianto let out a yawn, feeling it in his eyes as they watered. Too many late nights these past couple of days. Although, it wasn’t like he could actually sleep. Whenever he did manage to get some rest, his mind tormented him with memories of Owen and Toshiko.

Slumping into the little kitchen, Ianto started making a coffee for himself. He figured Jack would already be up and pulled the Captain’s mug from the shelf above him. He found himself staring at the espresso shots as they poured out of the machine. Watching the blackness swirl underneath the light foam, he just stared, not moving. Ianto finally picked up the espresso glasses, and they were cool to the touch. He dumped them in the sink and started pulling another set of shots. This time he made the coffee properly, and even remembered to not oversteam the milk. He had to stop letting the new information bother him so badly he got this distracted.

Grabbing both his mug and Jack’s, he headed straight for Jack’s office. The door was closed. Balancing both cups in one hand, Ianto knocked on the door. No answer. He knocked again and then slowly opened the door.

“Jack?”

Ianto peeked his head in and there was no one in the room. No one to say hello to, and no one to throw a stapler at his head - although, that was only once, and it had been Owen, who claimed it was an accident. Opting to not intrude on Jack’s personal space - if he was actually sleeping, let him rest - Ianto snuck in and left the mug of coffee on the corner of Jack’s desk. 

Hurrying out of the office, Ianto closed the door behind him and headed for his work station, He was not looking forward to telling the others what he had found out. Taking a sip of the coffee, Ianto started perusing the social media, using keywords from the investigation to see if anyone had mentioned seeing “Jack” on the prowl. The cog door rolled open, the lights above it flashing. Ianto glanced up, expecting to see Gwen.

“What happened to you?” Ianto asked as he got up and dashed over to Jack, who just pushed him away.

“I had a run in with something. Not sure if its related to Owen or not.”

Ianto stood back. “What do you mean you had a run in? There’s dried blood on your—”

“I’m fine. I always am, aren’t I?”

“I wonder sometimes.”

Jack turned on him, his eyes staring at Ianto, almost through him. “You do?”

“Believe it or not Jack, I care about you.”

“And is that why you were so quick to think of me as a murderer?”

“I had to make sure—” Ianto started chasing after Jack as he took off for his office. “Where are you going?”

Jack turned on his heel, jabbing his index finger into Ianto’s chest. “I don’t care what you have to say. We need to make sure we catch this killer before anyone else gets murdered.” 

Not backing away, Ianto stood firm. Grabbing Jack’s hand with his, he lowered the arm towards the ground. “What would you have done? Would you have confronted me or snuck around behind my back? It’s not like none of us have secrets. Plus, with everything we deal with here I had to make sure it was you and not some shapeshifter or alien embedded in your brain first.”

“Fine.”

“Now, is the thing that got you handcuffed in the SUV, or did it get away?”

“I don’t know what it was exactly, and its gone. But I have an idea. And if it’s what I think it is…”

“End of the world?”

“Not quite.”

“Thank God for small favors.”

Jack let out a small harrumph and pulled away from Ianto, slipping his coat off. “I know I put two bullets into it and it still walked away without leaving a trail of blood or goo.”

“That’s not right.”

“You think?”

Jack rolled up his sleeves as he took the chair by Toshiko’s old desk. He glanced at the picture of Tosh and Owen that Gwen had left up. He brought the secondary monitor to life and Ianto could see that he was pulling up Rift recordings from around Turnmill from the last several hours.

“What was it?” Ianto moved behind Jack, watching him.

“I don’t know.”

“How do you not know?”

“It surprised me. Next thing I knew I was waking up in the SUV, my gun out and blood on me. But I did detect…”

Ianto looked over Jack’s shoulder, peering at the readout. “Theron radiation? Isn’t that what Gwen found at the last murder site?”

“Exactly. Very few species use it. It’s not a good radiation.”

“ _Good_ radiation?”

“There’s this group of monks who perfected low level radiation showers. It does wonders for the skin.”

“The botox of the future?”

“I never thought of it that way. Anyway, only two species would use this kind of radiation in their alloys, and one of the species is extinct. Their sun went supernova a millennium ago.” Jack swivvelled the chair around, raising his face to Ianto. “At least we have something to work with now, albeit it gave me a nasty headache for a while there.”

“We have something else, Jack.”

“What?”

“I did some digging, went to a couple of Owen’s old haunts.”

“Ianto, you shouldn’t have done that.”

“And what should I have done? Stayed at my flat watching X-Factor?”

“What did you find?”

Ianto pushed past Jack, and typed in a couple of commands, pulling up the photos of each of the four murder victims. “Dark eyes, long dark hair, Asian features, all under 5’7”, are you noticing a pattern?” Ianto found himself looking at the picture of Owen and Tosh. He noticed Jack’s eyes following the direction of his gaze.

“Toshiko.”

They both looked up as Gwen shuffled in, looking like she hadn’t slept either. She looked at them, and Ianto could see her eyes were bloodshot. Gwen blinked as the tears fell down her cheeks. She dropped her bag to the sofa and stumbled over by them. Jack stood, holding her up by the arms.

“What happened?” Jack asked.

“Rhona called me, from the police. Andy’s gone missing.”

“Missing? How can he have gone missing?”

“He was on shift. No one partnered with him - apparently the sergeant on duty gave him grief because I was there earlier trying to find out more information on the case - and he went out on patrol alone. He never checked back in. All they found was his notebook in an alley behind Tyndall Street, but no sign of Andy. The last time he checked in with the station was 11:15 last night.”

“Andy was the only one working with us instead of against us,” Ianto chimed in.

Gwen collapsed into Jack’s chest, her hands pressed against her face as she started crying even more. “It’s our fault, isn’t it?”

“We don’t know that,” Jack said, hugging her.

Jack looked back over his shoulder, nodding at Ianto. Ianto nodded back and headed over to his workstation, pulling up information on the area Andy was last seen in. Ianto noticed how it fit the perfect location for the murders - no CCTV, not as traversed, less people to ask questions - which is why Andy had probably been checking it out. He hurried to the armoury, grabbing some weapons and a scanner. Ianto took the long way back and grabbed some pills from autopsy. Back upstairs Jack settled Gwen down on the sofa. He handed Jack the pills, who gave them to Gwen. She just stared at them in her hand as Ianto grabbed up Jack’s coat.

“What am I supposed to do with these?”

“Take them. Ianto and I will check out the site.”

“I’m going with you Jack!”

“No. You’re not.”

“Andy’s my friend—”

“Which is why you’re staying here.”

“But I should be the one out there.”

“Think of it this way Gwen,” Ianto said as he handed Jack extra bullets for his Webley. “When Owen comes for Jack and I, you’ll still be here, able to rescue all three of us.”

Gwen slumped back into the sofa, letting out a deep breath. “Just make sure it doesn’t come to that.”

“We’ll try,” Jack said, grabbing his coat from Ianto’s hands and heading for the cog door.


	12. Chapter 12

Andy opened his eyes, unsurprised to find himself still in darkness. He snorted, trying to keep his nose clear so he wouldn’t choke with the gag in his mouth. He slowly started taking stock of the situation he found himself in.

One of the dead people from Torchwood had poisoned him - or something - and dragged him back to a building that smelled of dust, wood and mould. Not enough to narrow that down. His hands were still cuffed behind his back, with his own cuffs. If he ever made it out of here, he knew no one would let him live that down. He tried to move his shoulders, noticing a lack of ability to go anywhere. Arching his back, Andy could make out the rope that went through his arms holding him down to the table. At least it felt like a table.

He flexed his feet, noticing they were still tied together, but at least he could feel them. Small victories he could accept. Andy stopped breathing as he heard something shuffle in the darkness to his right. Evenly measured footsteps headed straight for him, stopping right above him. The goosebumps danced along his neck as something started breathing in his ear. There was nothing. No smell. Just there, and hot breath along his skin.

“How about round three?” a masculine voice said next to him.

He tried to shake his head no, hoping this creature could see it in the dark. It seemed to see him. Every bruise it had left on his body, every pressure point it had manipulated were all such direct attacks. How could he see so well in the pitch black?

“Too bad I don’t feel like listening to you. Was never much on respecting authority.” 

Andy could feel fingers run through his hair and then tightened around his locks, yanking his head upwards. The cry got lost in his throat. Another hand seemed to slither around his neck, the thumb pressing against his Adam’s apple. He could feel himself choking and wasn’t able to do a thing. The hand in his hair yanked down, knocking his head against the solid table, sending shooting pains through his skull.

Trying to breathe, he vaguely noticed the hands leave his body. He struggled against the ropes, willing to wager anything with God for a chance to escape. One of the hands smacked down against his stomach, making his insides cramp up. It felt like all his upper torso consisted of anymore was bruises. 

“I’m sorry. Didn’t I tell you? You’re not leaving here. In fact, you’ll be lucky if the police find your rotting remains before they tear this building down.”

Andy was partly surprised the tears wouldn’t come. Maybe it was all the police training, or dealing with Torchwood; or maybe it was just an understanding of knowing how he would die. He tried to breathe, wishing he could have left a note for his parents, or his friends, or even Gwen.

He could hands moving up his body and cutting away the remains of his uniform shirt and vest. As the fingers pressed along his sides, the pain made him acutely aware of every centimetre they moved. Despite the darkness, or maybe in defiance of it and what was coming, he kept his eyes wide open. 

Suddenly there was something like a blade in front of his face. It seemed to glow, despite no light to bounce off of it. His eyes followed the light as it hovered over his chest. The blade dipped down and back up. It wasn’t until nearly a minute later that he could feel the warmth start spreading across his chest. Andy started to choke as he could feel his skin move around the cut under his breast.

Somewhere across the room it sounded like a rocket went off as there was a flood of blinding light in the room. Andy winced, scrunching his eyes shut against the light. His movements seemed to open him up to a whole new level of pain across his chest and body. Cracking his eyes open a slit, he could make out some bloke in a long coat standing in the doorway, and a gun pointed at him and the guy that had taken him. 

“Step away from him. Now!” Andy’s body jerked at the familiar voice.

A maniacal laugh greeted their ears from the guy with the knife. Andy shivered. He had never heard a laugh like that before, except in those old movies depicting life in a crazy house. 

“Ianto, help Andy.”

Andy tried to yell at them, to tell them to hurry. He was getting cold. He could see a figure move around the bloke in the coat, but before they could get to him, fresh pain jolted across his forehead and he slipped into unconsciousness.


	13. Chapter 13

Gwen shuddered as she watched him through the glass wall of the cell. Jack had carried his prone body into the Hub and downstairs, leaving her directions to not let him out of her sight, and then he ducked into his office before running out again. Jack hadn’t said anything about Andy, or where Ianto was.

She looked down at her watch, noticing it had been almost an hour since Jack had left. Whatever they had done to Owen had knocked him out good. She sat there, her legs crossed, just looking at her former co-worker, her breathing nearly matching the rise and fall of his chest. Gwen started as he quickly sat up on the bunk, growling.

Slowly his head turned towards the glass and Owen grimaced at her. Gwen’s breath caught in her throat as he pushed himself up from the bunk in the cell, never taking his gaze off of her. The height, weight, look was definitely all Owen. Then she looked at his eyes. The eyes were too dark, too cold to be Owen. For the first time that day she truly regretted not grabbing her gun on the way down to the cells. 

Owen moved up to the glass, pressing his hands against it, looking at her. He raised an eyebrow and grinned. She quickly stood up, kicking the stool back, her heart pounding. He cocked his head to the side, as if he was studying her. Gwen took a step closer, only to stop as Owen grinned, baring his teeth. This wasn’t right. How could this be him? It was as if everything he had been was stripped away.

“Gwen…”

Her breath hitched in her throat as her name tumbled off his lips. It sounded like him. “Yes?”

“Let me out of here. How can you keep me in here?”

“It’s for your own good.”

“Locking me up in a prison? How is this good?”

“We don’t know what happened to you.”

“Which is why I need you to help me Gwen. Please. He’ll hurt me. He already did.”

“He didn’t mean it. We can help you.”

“No you can’t. No one can.” Owen sighed, stumbling back towards the bunk and collapsing onto the hard surface.

Gwen moved towards the glass. She wished she could help. But she didn’t know what she could do. “Do you remember after saving Martha how you didn’t think you could be helped? But we found a way around it. Just give us some time.”

“I don’t have time. I can’t stay locked up.”

“You have time. Maybe even more than I do around here.”

“That’s for sure.”

“We will figure something out. We’ll try and work out something with the police.”

“You know the police.”

“Listen—”

“We kissed. In the Hub. Before that nasty time in the country.”

“Yes.”

“I saved you from the rifle buckshot in the Beacons. I had to pull the pellets from your stomach inside that little cottage.”

“That’s right.”

“You were pregnant. On your wedding day and refused to let me bring you to the Hub. You refused to cancel the wedding.”

“True.”

“Toshiko? What about Toshiko? I need to find her.”

“Owen…” Gwen pressed her palm against the glass, not sure what to say. Did he not know? When had he lost communication in the middle of the chaos of that day.

“Gwen. Step away from him. Now.”

“We need to help him.”

“Oh, we’ll help him all right. But I need you to step back. Don’t touch him.”

Gwen took a step back, never taking her eyes off Owen as he sat there, hunched over, staring at the floor. “Why?”

“You need to trust me on this. Go upstairs. Ianto could use some help dealing with the police and what happened to Andy.”

She turned her face to Jack afraid to ask, but she knew she had to. “What did happen to Andy? Is he alive?”

“Barely. But he’ll live. Upstairs, now.”

She opened her mouth to debate with him. Gwen knew she should be helping with Andy, he deserved that much from her, but she felt like she needed to help save Owen if she could. Shutting her mouth, Gwen headed for the doorway. Jack gently squeezed her shoulder as she passed by him. With one foot on the stairs back up to the work area, Gwen turned around and watched as Jack stalked closer to the glass.

“Stand up and look at me,” Jack said.

“No,” Owen replied.

“Fine. Then we’ll start with an easy question. What’s your name?” Jack asked.

“Jack Harkness.”

It was as if Jack could feel her staring at him. He turned his head towards her, a frown on his face. He nodded his head towards the stairs and she reluctantly went that way. Behind her she could hear Jack asking more questions.

“Tell me what you remember.” Jack said to Owen.

Gwen hurried up the stairs, suddenly eager to help Andy any way she could. Or maybe she was just running? Gwen grabbed up the phone as Ianto filled her in: Andy was at the hospital, retconned. She began calling her other police contacts to see if they had any leads on who had hurt her former partner, and then started the dance of making them not point fingers at Torchwood, or Owen.


	14. Chapter 14

“You can’t be serious Jack!”

“Do you think I’m kidding?”

“But that’s Owen down there.”

Jack leaned against the desk, folding his arms across his chest. Ianto didn’t look at him, just continued to stare at the computer monitor by his workstation. When Jack looked at Gwen, he didn’t need to be psychic to tell how she felt: her fists clenched at her side, her eyes glistening as she tried to not cry, her nose flaring with each heavy breath. It was days like this he resented coming back. Not because of them, but because of the choices he had to make regarding his team, his _family_.

“Gwen, it’s my decision, and that’s final.”

Gwen picked up a nearby clipboard, looking at the papers as her shoulders started to shake. She threw the clipboard at her chair, sending papers scattering around them, as she nearly ran straight for the door to the cells. Jack bolted after her, grabbing her around the waist and pulling her back against him.

“What do you think you’re doing?”

“We have to try and help him!” Gwen punched at his hands, trying to pull away, but Jack held tight to her. Her fists pelted his own hands for a minute, until she relented, and hung limp in his arms. She learned her head back against his chest, crying. “It’s Owen. Doesn’t he deserve everything we can do to help him? Doesn’t he deserve that much from us after what you did to him?”

Jack lead her back to her chair, where Ianto had already picked up the papers, and sat her down. He brushed a hand through her hair and gave her a small peck on the top of her head. Standing up, Jack came face-to-face with Ianto behind her. It hadn’t been any easier to convince Ianto of what needed to be done.

“Gwen,” Ianto said, putting a hand on her shoulder. “It’s not him. Whatever is left isn’t really Owen. We need to let him go.”

“Like you did with Lisa?” Gwen didn’t look at either man.

Ianto stepped back from her and walked away from both of them, watching the water in the retention pond. Jack ran a palm across his face and let out a sigh. He turned around and headed for the cells, and for this version of Owen Harper.

“It may not be him, but what if he still has all of Owen’s memories? He told me things down there… what if Owen could still live through him?” Gwen’s words stopped Jack in his tracks.

“It’s not all his memories,” Jack said, swallowing hard. 

Before anyone else could try and convince him otherwise, Jack scurried down the stairs and to the cells. He entered the lone section that held Owen. As soon as he exited the stairwell, he could feel Owen’s eyes watching him, boring through him. Jack took a steadying breath and marched up to the glass, never taking his own eyes off Owen.

“Stand back,” Jack coldly said.

Owen shuffled back until his knees hit the bunk and stopped. He grinned at Jack, never once not looking away from him. Jack keyed in the code and the door opened. He stepped into the cell with Owen and closed the door. Taking up a position on the other side of the cell, Jack kept some distance between them.

“Nice try.”

“At what?”

“Stealing a human essence. But you got yourself mixed up.”

“Did I?”

“Yes.”

“So now what? You’re going to kill me? Shoot me in the head like I did you?”

“I already did that once today. Didn’t like your little nap?” Jack took a steadying breath. “Tell me, is that memory his or mine? Who’s perspective do you really see it from?”

“You won’t kill me. You love me. I know that.”

Jack lunged forward, his hands wrapping around Owen’s neck, pushing him against the wall. His fingers grew tighter around the other man’s throat, digging into the warm flesh. Owen started to choke, his hands clawing at Jack’s wrists, trying to get leverage. Jack pushed him down onto the bunk as Owen struggled for breath. Suddenly Owen’s eyes glowed a crimson orange as his nails dug into Jack’s arms.

“Is this the real you coming out then?” Jack said, nearly spitting out each word.

A hissing echoed from Owen’s throat as Jack pressed harder, feeling the muscles under his hands tighten. Owen’s hand shot out between Jack’s arms and punched him in the solar plexus, making the breath in Jack’s throat catch, forcing him back with the shock, his hands loosening enough for Owen to squirm away. Owen scrambled off the bunk and over by the glass, breathing heavily, eyes still alight.

Jack stepped back, assessing Owen. He stepped closer, watching as Owen moved to his left. Jack feinted left and then charged to his right, body slamming Owen into the wall. Owen tried to push away, bringing his elbow crashing into Jack’s throat. Jack stumbled back, and then brought his head forward, cracking it against Owen’s head, making the younger man’s head bounce off the concrete. Jack grabbed Owen in a chokehold. He could feel his own arms tightening, but he didn’t break the hold as he slid Owen’s body along the wall until he was lying face down on the floor. Planting a knee in Owen’s back, he pinned his former medic down. Wrapping an arm around Owen’s throat, he stretched the other man out, yanking up on him.

“Just tell me, why him? Of all the humans you could have chosen, why him?”

Owen leered at him, looking back over his shoulder. “Thoughts that needed a body. No mistakes. It was easy to steal an essence that was just waiting for me. No need to go after a body right away to get what I needed.” Owen seemed to be speaking with ease, despite Jack’s hold on his throat. “I didn’t have to waste any energy as soon as I came to this planet. And oh, the energy, the life in these humans. And the memories, the essence, the sweetness of it all.”

“Too bad. I’m the barkeep and this is last call.”

“You wouldn’t dare. I can see it in you. This one meant a lot to you.”

“ _Meant_ is right.”

“Think about it. He can live again in me.”

“And what do you propose? We let you wander the city randomly murdering people to get high?”

“The city? How about the world?”

“Wrong. Owen Harper was a brave man who gave his life many times over to stop things like you. If you think I am going to let you parade around wearing his skin and killing innocent humans you guessed wrong.”

“Owen Harper?”

Jack leaned in close next Owen’s face, digging his knee into the kidney. “You screwed up. You didn’t just pick up on Owen’s essence, you got some of mine when you went hunting at Turnmill. That’s why you called yourself Jack. That’s why your memories aren’t really his. That’s why you think you can breathe and live, and you will eventually die.”

“You don’t know how to kill me.”

Jack quickly moved his hand to Owen’s forehead and pressed his palm hard against the skull, drawing Owen’s body and neck up. He dug into the pocket of his trousers and pulled out the same metallic knife they had seen Owen using on Andy. Bringing it around, Jack pressed the side and the blade slithered out of the handle, nearly humming in front of Owen’s face.

“I can start with this. If I remember correctly this radiation helps draw in the ‘essences’. Plus, you’re still in human form, so I should at least be able to gut you like you did those poor girls, and don’t even get me started on what you did to Andy. If this doesn’t work, I can always devise other ways of killing you, because you’re not leaving this cell until you are dead.”

Owen struggled under Jack, hands smacking his arms, trying to push him off. Jack brought the blade down, slicing along one arm, watching as it started spouting blood in Owen’s flailing and fell limp as he severed a couple of muscles and tendons. The other arm grabbed his wrist, trying to move the blade towards Jack. Grimacing, Jack turned his wrist, slicing into Owen’s other arm, making that fall. He held tight to Owen’s head, the neck muscles taut, and brought the blade across them, hitting both carotid arteries.

For several long minutes, Jack kept Owen pinned down as he watched the life leave this body. He barely remembered to breathe throughout that time. The knife’s blade seemed to grow even more brilliant, so bright that Jack had to look away. It wasn’t until Owen’s body started to grow cold did he sheath the knife and slowly stood up, Owen’s blood all over him. Jack flipped open his wrist strap and keyed in the code that opened the door to the cell.

Stepping through it, he pocketed the knife once more and closed the door. He turned around and leaned against the glass, watching Owen’s lifeless body. No breathing, no hair moving, not even a twitch of a finger. Jack slid down along the glass, finding himself sitting on the floor, just watching to see if Owen came back again. If he did… well, Jack would have to deal with it then. If it was truly Owen locked in that alien, and he came back, Jack figured Owen would understand.

Dropping his head down, chin in his chest, Jack turned his hand over in front of his face. The blood wasn’t even sticky anymore. But it was blood. It was something their Owen hadn’t had before he died. His eyes trailed along the floor to the pool of blood in the cell. He hoped he was right. He hoped everything he had told Gwen and Ianto was right. Propping up one knee, and leaning his head against it, Jack also knew it was his responsibility, no one else’s. So many people had died. That could never be Owen. He couldn’t even kill Ed Morgan when he had the chance. Jack finally let the tears come.

“I’m sorry,” Jack whispered.


	15. Chapter 15

Ianto grabbed the coffee cup and silently walked into Jack’s office. He could smell the shampoo the Captain used all the way by the door, which meant he had used a lot of it in his long shower that night. Jack didn’t even look at him, just kept reading a report that had been sitting on his desk since the week before. Putting the coffee down next to Jack’s arm, Ianto stood there, waiting.

“Thank you,” Jack said as he picked up the coffee and gave it a sniff. He took a sip and set the cup back down. “You don’t need to stay,” Jack said, still concentrating on the report.

“I want to,” Ianto said, sitting back on the corner of Jack’s desk. “What do you need?”

“Nothing. I took care of the body. Did you put the knife away?”

“Locked in secure archives. No one should be able to get at it.”

“Then that’s taken care of. What about Gwen?”

“Home. Probably passed out in bed before Rhys even got there.”

“Good.”

Ianto wiped his palms along his trousers. “Jack, are you sure we did the right thing?”

“About what?”

“All of this. Killing Owen. Retconning Gwen and Andy…”

Jack tossed the report to the side and leaned back in his chair, regarding Ianto. “You know as well as I do that retconning Andy was the best option. Better he forget what happened to him and have it explained as temporary amnesia with a head wound from some random attack, than the truth.”

“And Gwen?”

“My choice. Protecting her, and you.” Jack held out his hand, a small white pill in his palm.

“What about you Jack? You going to forget? When we’re all gone are you going to retcon us out of your memory?”

“No. It’s the least I could do, to remember you.” Jack grabbed Ianto’s hand, putting the pill into it and closed Ianto’s fingers around the Retcon. “Take it. Better you don’t remember Owen like this.”

“You want me to take this and just forget? What if this happens again? He can’t be the only one of his species.”

“It’s my job to watch out for Gwen, and for you.” Jack stood up in front of Ianto, putting a hand on either side of his face. “Let me do this for you.” Jack leaned in, his lips gently brushing against Ianto’s lips. He then pressed down harder, kissing Ianto. “Please.”

Ianto closed his eyes, feeling the hurt in Jack’s plea. He knew it wasn’t a choice the older man flippantly made, and he understood. He understood more than Jack figured he would be capable of. So many mistakes in their lives, and the last thing they needed was the constant thoughts of what if: what if it was Owen? what if they didn’t have to kill him to stop it? what if Jack’s research was wrong? what if Owen was still in Turnmill? what if they had been able to stop Grey?

He pressed his forehead against Jack’s, delighting in the closeness. Ianto wished he could make Jack forget how betrayed he had felt by him again. Ianto shook his head yes. Jack leaned in and kissed him again, holding the kiss, giving Ianto the strength to do what he had to do.

“How long?”

“The last couple of days. I’ll plant evidence that makes it seem like you needed to. Hopefully you won’t question it.”

“Don’t forget to lock us out of the case files.”

“I know.”

Ianto pulled away, pocketing the pill, and looked at Jack. Without saying another word he stoically walked out of Jack’s office. Grabbing his coat, Ianto headed out the cog door and up in the lift for the outside. His thoughts kept replaying the last week, wondering if there was anything they could have seen, anything to have saved any of the girls. He kept coming back to the same answers - no. 

Locking down the tourist office, Ianto took a deep breath of the fresh air and looked around at the Bay. He shoved his hands into the pockets of his trousers and headed towards home. He felt like walking, like clearing his head. The chill in the air caught in his throat as his fingers played with the Retcon in his pocket. He understood why Jack asked him to take it. Ianto pulled the pill out of his pocket and tossed it in the sewer as he walked by. He also hoped that if Jack found it, he too would understand. For now Ianto would play like he forgot, but he never would. Someone had to know. Someone had to be there, so Jack wouldn’t be alone in this. Ianto pulled his coat tight around him and headed home.


End file.
